Bathtime
by pocketcucco
Summary: Anders comes to visit Hawke. She decides he needs a bath.


I was joking with a friend about how Hawke would force Anders to take a bath every time he comes to the estate from Darktown and it all went downhill from there... Imma be real with you guys, I have no idea how Anders' clothes work lmao

Also, even though the idea was pretty crackfic-y, I wanted to make this nice and fluffy because Anders deserves some fluff

* * *

 _ **Bathtime**_

Hawke cuts Anders off mid-kiss, just as he's gently nipping at her lower lip and his hands are sliding up the front of her top. He almost doesn't let her push him back; his teeth linger at her mouth until he parts with a reluctant whine.

"Hold on," Hawke says, "I almost forgot. Upstairs. Now."

"I was hoping you might forget if I kissed you well enough." Anders leans forward again, smiling playfully, but only manages a quick peck on the nose before Hawke swats him away.

"Nice try. Come on."

"Do we really need to do this?" he asks, his voice just barely more than a whisper as they navigate the stairway in the dark. Bodahn and his son sleep like the dead, but neither of them quite trust Leandra not to hear them and come snooping. It was awkward enough that she'd caught them both in a state of half-undress once (Hawke maintains that that particular incident was Anders's fault – he'd slammed her against the wall in a moment of passion, apparently forgetting that her mother's room was just on the other side), and in typical Leandra fashion, insisted on making things even worse by wanting to talk over tea.

They were a bit more careful after that.

"Yes. You know I love you, and I'm doing you a favor."

"Justice doesn't approve."

"Does he ever?"

Hawke pushes open the door to her room. She had Sandal deposit one of their massive tubs in front of the mantle, where Hawke used magic to heat the water that was brought inside.

"I know Darktown isn't the cleanest place, but I do wash up at the clinic. Do you really think I'd come to court you covered in blood and piss?"

"I'd hope not. Besides, you like it when I pamper you," Hawke says. "Now: strip and get in there before I freeze the water."

"Oh, a show like that will cost you. I hope you have some coin handy."

"I do. Want me to stick them down your smalls?"

He throws back his head and laughs. It's a lovely sound, one that Hawke is hearing less often these days.

Anders starts to untie his coat and remove the feathered pauldrons – and hesitates, that wicked smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"I seem to be having trouble. There are _so_ many knots… Help me?"

Hawke rolls her eyes, but steps forward to make surprisingly work at all of the complicated clasps and ties on Anders's outfit. Why he chooses to wear this elaborate get-up is beyond her. If she hadn't already shared a bed with him, she'd wonder if he actually slept in his clothes just to save time getting ready each morning.

She removes the coat first, and then those blasted pauldrons, taking extra care to set them aside so none of the feathers are shaken loose. Beneath those is a white tunic, stained various shades of green from the herbal remedies he puts together and red from what she assumes is blood. Hawke takes it by the hem and pulls it up and over his head with maddening slowness.

"Now you're just teasing me," Anders says, his tone still mischievous but a touch husky. He kisses her hard on the mouth this time, wanting-

"What are those from?"

Hawke's opened her eyes and sees a myriad of purple bruises across his torso. They're fresh and dark against his pale skin.

"Oh." Anders gently touches one and winces. "I didn't realize I still had those."

Hawke raises an eyebrow. "Really."

"There was an…altercation…in Darktown earlier this afternoon."

"Anders…"

"You know how some of the people here treat Fereldan refugees. I can't just stand aside and let it happen."

"I know. But still…"

She runs a hand across one, gently, and tries not to comment for the hundredth time that she can feel the points of his ribs through the skin.

He takes that hand in hers and presses it to his lips.

"I'm fine. Really. And I can always heal myself if it gets any worse than that."

"That's not my point. I want you to be-"

"-careful. And I am! You don't stay an apostate for this long without a little skill, eh?"

"Skill and dumb luck." She squeezes and releases his hand. "Now, where was I…"

Anders has already kicked off his boots, leaving pants and smalls. Hawke yanks both of them down at the same time and casts them aside.

"Hm," she hums, stepping back to consider her handiwork. "You know, I don't think I ever will get over how _delicious_ you look in this firelight."

Anders spins in place, pausing only to give her a long, thoughtful look at his backside. Hawke's lips quirk.

"Have you changed your mind? You could have all of this-" Here he gestures at his groin, to which Hawke gives an approving nod, "-and more right now if we skip the-"

"Nope. You missed a spot right…here…when you were 'cleaning up' at the clinic," she says, poking a spot of crusted blood on his hip, just below a cut. "Oh! And right here-"

He slaps her hand away before she can make a grab for his crotch. "That's for later," he says, laughing softly, and presses one more lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth before he steps into the tub.

"Andraste's..." He trails off with a sigh and slides deeper into the water. "How do you get the temperature just perfect every time?"

"Self control."

He snorts. "Says the woman who nearly lit the bazaar on fire last night."

"A good fireball always sorts those carta members out. You all appreciate it when we walk out of those scrapes with no injuries."

"Yes, 'appreciate'... I _appreciate_ that no one caught on fire, because that would have been an awful lot of work for me."

"Shush."

Hawke sits beside the tub and swirls a finger through the water. Anders's eyes are closed, and for once, it looks as though he's actually relaxed. The tension leaves his shoulders as he leans his head against the rim.

One brown eye suddenly reopens. "Not going to join me, are you? It's very lonely in here."

"I took a bath just before you got here. Didn't feel like waiting. And besides, you smell like the sewers."

"Oh, that's _rich_ , coming from Ms Darkspawn Guts!" he says, splashing her with a faceful of warm water. Hawke throws up her hands and splashes him back - but not without adding just enough frost to make him gasp and shiver.

"Maker!" he says, though he's laughing right along with her. "You're cruel!"

"I was only defending myself!"

"Here I am, naked and vulnerable..."

"Just the way I like you."

Anders snorts, but he's smiling. Hawke rests her cheek against the rim of the tub and watches him, watches the crackling glow of the fire behind him. This is a part of him – content, calm, cheeks flushed pink from the steam – she doesn't see often, but appreciates so much when she does. She reaches into the water and takes his hand. He interlaces her fingers between his and squeezes gently.

"Thank you, Hawke," he says, quieter now. "This is the happiest I've been in a very long time. Justice is demanding that I do more than just lie here, but…I'm finding it a little easier to ignore him than usual."

"Good. You deserve it."

Hawke leans forward and Anders rises to meet her. They kiss, slowly at first, savoring this quiet moment together in the midst of all the chaos of Kirkwall. Hawke lifts the palm of her free hand to his cheek, stroking the stubble there. He should probably think about trimming it up a bit soon, but she loves the scrape of it against her skin.

Anders bites at her lip again. She doesn't stop him this time, lets him slide his tongue over her mouth before she opens it for him. His free hand works deftly at the neckline of her finery until he's slid one of the sleeves down her shoulder. He moves forward, spilling water over the rim of the tub as he trails a line of kisses down the soft column of her neck.

"Mm. That's nice, and all," she says, "but you haven't even bothered to scrub yet-"

"To the void with it."

Anders doesn't give her another chance to protest – before she knows it, he's gathered her up in his arms and drops her unceremoniously on the bed. Hawke shuffles back to make room for him to follow.

"I want to try that electricity thing again, if you're up for it…"

"That can most definitely be arranged."


End file.
